


If the World Was Ending, You’d Come Over Right?

by NikkiKatie



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29925441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiKatie/pseuds/NikkiKatie
Summary: Summary: A disaster hits Prince Edward Island, causing Anne, Gilbert, and the entire Avonlea gang at Queens to fight for their lives and each other. But for Anne and Gilbert, the sudden realization that they might lose one another stirs something far deeper than just momentary panic. A modern AU inspired by the song “If the World Was Ending” by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels.Trigger Warning: Natural disaster, but no character death.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Ruby Gillis & Moody Spurgeon MacPherson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 54





	1. You Weren’t Down for Forever And It’s Fine

As soon as he sees the question in his genetics textbook, Gilbert groans in frustration and runs his hands through his dark curls. He came to the coffee shop an hour ago to focus better. But his distractions seem to have followed him here. 

The chapter on genetics probability should not be causing him physical heartache, and yet here he sits, in agony and longing. The question from the practice quiz that he can’t seem to move on from reads:

>>If the father has brown hair and the mother has red hair, apply what you know about genetic probability to determine the likelihood their child will have red hair.<<

The author might have considered it a harmless example of the way Punnett Squares work, but for Gilbert, it was a landmine. Because he became consumed by memories of her. How could he not, with a question like that? Red hair, of all features to cite. It’s not like this was the first time that conjuring up thoughts of her vibrant red hair had caused him pain. But instead of chuckling at the memory of their first interaction, when he had called her carrots in a lame attempt to flirt with the cute new girl at school, now it felt like little explosions going off in his chest. Like his heart was shattering.

Gilbert closes the book and sighs deeply. It’s his senior year of college, and he should be singularly focused on preparing for medical school applications, being captain of the hockey team, and weekend visits back home to see Bash, Mary, and his darling niece, Delphine. Shouldn’t that be enough for him to be satisfied, particularly given the loneliness and isolation of his childhood after his father died? 

His life was so much fuller now. The orchard back home in Avonlea no longer sat quiet, now full of the sound of Delly running through the trees as they played tag, just as he had with Anne when they were younger. The rooms of his home no longer echoed with whispers of him reading Whitman quietly to his father, or his father’s heavy wheezing and coughs bouncing off the stone walls. Instead there was laughter, home cooked meals, new memories being made. And he had an excellent academic record that was sure to get him into the med school of his choice. 

But there was still such a sense of longing in him, a feeling that he was not complete. And the hole in his heart was shaped exactly like Anne. 

He’d had moments when he thought she might return his feelings for her. Square dance practice their sophomore year of high school, when electrical currents seem to run straight through their hands. He was almost certain she had felt it, too, although she had slammed her locker in his face after when he had approached her, her face a deep red. Senior year of high school, when they were announced as co-valedictorians, she had wrapped him up in an impulsive, affectionate hug in homeroom as they heard it over the loudspeaker. He gripped her so tightly he was sure it would lead to some sort of confession between the two, but alas, they were quickly broken apart by their classmates, eager to congratulate them. Even here at Queen’s, whenever they’d unexpectedly run into each other on campus, she would always say his name a bit breathlessly, as if she was not only surprised to see him, but a bit overwhelmed by it, too. 

It’s actually why he loves coming to this coffee shop, with its view across the quad to the library. Which he knows is her favorite study spot. Increasing his chances of seeing her.

He sighs and runs his hands through his messy hair. He’s known Anne since they were 13, they’re now 21, and yet he’s still grasping at chance encounters like a lonely schoolboy. 

It wasn’t just his own inability to summon the courage to talk to her about these deeper feelings. He had certainly had trouble keeping his own frustrations at bay whenever she lashed out with a harsh word or sharp glance. Her temper had even prompted him to spend their entire junior year of college dating Winifred, a girl he knew intimidated Anne. It caused so much tension that he rarely saw Anne during group outings among their Avonlea friends that year. 

But over the summer, he broke things off with Winifred, when she had all but demanded that Gilbert join her on a study abroad program in Paris. He knew that following Winnie to Paris would be implying a very inaccurate idea about his future intentions with her. Because when he was honest with himself, he had really only begun this fling with her in a desperate attempt to distract himself from Anne. He vowed to never be so reckless with anyone else’s emotions again.

And then, when he tried to tell Anne about the breakup at the traditional end-of-summer bonfire in Avonlea, she seemed so confused as to why he would turn down an opportunity to study in Paris. She got very flustered and turned away from him. Perhaps starting the conversation by saying he was passing up an opportunity to travel abroad and see more of the world was the wrong tact. Bash had teased him about it, of course, but he wondered if Bash had a point beneath the sarcasm. Maybe he had just done a bad job of making his intentions clear to Anne. 

Mary certainly thought so. In fact, she had all but shoved him out the door the next morning, insisting he go over to Green Gables and try again. And so he did, full of hope that in the dawn of a new day, they both might be more clear headed. But Marilla said Anne had just left for a weekend visit with her friend Ka’kwet, and from there she’d be heading straight to Queens. He’d have to catch up with her back on campus, Marilla said, with a glint of what Gilbert thought might be hope in her eye. 

It was just the latest in a series of missteps and miscommunication between the two of them when it came to expressing any type of a romantic future together. If it didn’t mean so much, Gilbert could almost laugh at how the two of them could be the stars of some romantic comedy subplot, always dancing around each other. How could he be so awful at communicating with someone who was such a great friend, someone he considered family?

After all, even dopey Charlie had mustered the courage to ask Anne out. He had seen the two of them out together on several occasions in the past few weeks. He couldn’t imagine a more disastrous match for Anne, but perhaps his judgment on the matter was clouded. Much like the coffee shop window he was still staring out at, into the cold, clear night. The frosted pane perfectly captured his confused feelings when it came to Anne and what to do about his emotions. If only clearing that up was as easy as rubbing his fist against the glass of the window to rub away the moisture.

Was it time to try again? To let Anne know there was another option to consider? Him, instead of Charlie? To make one last effort to talk to Anne about how he felt for her, to see if there was any chance she could truly ever love him in return? To risk altering their friendship forever? They were almost halfway through their senior year. The coming months would have all of their friends, the two of them included, making big decisions about what path to take into the next chapter of their lives. 

How had Anne described it once when they had sat around reminiscing about growing up in Avonlea? Something about roads not being straight, but instead full of beautiful and surprising bends. He loved the way she could put complex ideas into such descriptive, poetic metaphors. He loved everything about her, actually.


	2. We Weren’t Meant for Each Other and It’s Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So while Gilbert tries (and fails) to study his genetics textbook, we walk across the quad to find Anne tucked away in the library, reading poetry...

Across campus, there is another cloudy window, another confused college senior contemplating a future, together, with a friend, or whether he could ever be more than a friend, or if time, choices, and missed opportunities had passed them by.

Anne was tucked away in her favorite reading nook of the historic wing of Queens’ main library. She loved coming to the older part of the building, not the modern annex that had been added their freshman year, even though that’s where most of the students preferred to study now. She adored the drafty corners, carved wooden beams, arched doorways, and the smell of musky and well-loved books wafting through the air. There was something so romantical about it, so much possibility here, a perfect place to pen the next world-changin novel. Alas, she was here to dig into a poetry assignment for her literature capstone class.

This was why she told Ruby and Diana, her roommates, that she needed to come to the library. She had said that poetry required complete silence and intense concentration. But honestly, she really just needed a break from their incessant questions about her date with Charlie Sloan the previous weekend. 

Because it is not Charlie who has been consuming her thoughts lately. It was him. Gilbert. She stares out the window and gazes at the lights inside the coffee shop across the quad. The clouded windows of the shop made it look as if the lights were twinkling.

Charlie didn’t require complicated analysis. She didn’t need to hash out each conversation topic they had chatted about over coffee, or every glance (or lack thereof) he had sent her way. She loved discussing all things romance with her girlfriends until the wee hours of the morning, as they usually did following dates. But when it came to Charlie, his intentions were perfectly clear. Quite unromantic actually, but simple to understand. He was easy to be with. Unlike mysterious Gilbert. She could never, ever figure him out.

She lets out a deep sigh, whether it is more out of longing or frustration, she can’t quite be sure. It wasn’t fair to Charlie to constantly assess him in comparison to Gilbert. It wasn’t fair to either of them, actually. She was determined not to waste another minute thinking about that boy. So she looks away from the window and pulls out her syllabus for the exact assignment. Page 324 of her poetry anthology. She flips the well-worn pages of the textbook and her heart drops straight into her stomach.

“After Apple-Picking” by Robert Frost.

Anne groans out loud. So much for an escape from thoughts of Gilbert. Gilbert Blythe. The prodigal son of Avonlea’s only apple orchard. An orchard that is a setting straight out of a classic fairytale. Or, apparently, a Robert Frost poem. Clearly her ability to put Gilbert out of her mind and replace it with Charlie was not going to work. Not with professors assigning poems about apple orchards, of all things! It conjured up too many memories.

Each fall, the Cuthberts have helped the Blythe La Croix family harvest their apples, as they in turn could always be relied upon during their own harvest and chores around Green Gables that required an extra set of hands. It was one of her favorite times of year, actually, getting to spend all day in that gorgeous orchard. In their younger years, she and Gilbert had played hide and go seek and tag during work breaks, pretending to be woodland fairies and knights storming the castle. As they grew older, she loved the chance to sneak peeks at Gilbert through the branches of the trees. She even thought she caught him looking at her in return occasionally. Bash had even caught them both staring once, and had made it embarrassingly awkward with his teasing. 

A few years ago, as her feelings for him were truly blossoming into womanly desire instead of just a teenage infatuation, apple harvest at Gilbert’s orchard became one of the first moments when she had wondered if her affection for him might not be unrequited. 

They had just finished loading the last barrel of the day down into the cellar, and Anne had decided to take fussy Delphine off Mary’s hands and bring her to the porch, hoping to catch a few cool night breezes at the end of a hot day of physical labor. Gilbert followed her out there, and took Delly from her as they sat on the porch steps. The darling baby finally succumbed to sleep in his strong, familiar arms. Anne couldn’t help but be taken by the intimacy of the moment, how caring Gilbert looked cradling his niece. They sat there, chatting casually about the day’s work, how well it had gone, and how wonderful it felt that their families made such a great team. And the mood somehow shifted between them. He seemed to sense it, too, and for a moment, Anne thought he was about to lean in and kiss her. 

Then Delphine had stirred in her sleep, and the moment somehow passed them by. Just like other close calls and near misses. She recalled similar sparks between them after their square dance practice in high school. But when he came up to her locker and just stared at her afterward instead of putting his feelings into words, she had impulsively slammed her locker door in his face. A couple of years later, she had put herself out there and tried to make the first move by hugging him after they were announced as co-valedictorians. He hugged her back, sure, but nothing more than a friendly embrace before they were pulled apart by their jubilant friends.

Gilbert wasn’t one to shy away from girls, afterall, so Anne always convinced herself that he just simply wasn’t interested… in her, specifically. Cole and Diana might have been convinced he had a crush on her, but Anne knew Gilbert better than they did, she told herself. He had such high expectations of himself in all aspects of his life. His academic goals. His devotion to his family and their orchard. His intense competitiveness in hockey. No doubt, his romantic desires would be similarly based in the pursuit of perfection and excellence. Not for a homely orphan more likely to act on her fanciful imagination than through careful consideration, as he would do. She was a friend to him. A dear friend, even. Better never more than that.

As if she needed more proof of that, he had dated Winifred Rose their entire junior year. And if Winifred was Gilbert’s romantic ideal, then Anne was more certain than ever that she would just never measure up. Where Anne was impulsive, Winifred was poised. Where Anne was passionate, Winifred was pleasant. Where Anne thought herself plain, Winifred was gorgeous beyond belief. Even the name Winifred rolled off the tongue like a song, unlike her own monosyllabic Anne. There was simply no way Gilbert Blythe would willingly go from dating the spectacular Winifred to her. 

And so when he told her about his breakup with Winnie at the bonfire before they all came back to Queens to start their senior year, she convinced herself it was merely due to the circumstances of Winifred’s departure to France and had nothing to do with any possibility of feelings he might have for her instead. It was simply a matter of two college students not ready for the burden of a long distance relationship, right? While she so desperately wanted her love to be returned, she wouldn’t accept just being his default option while his real, true love was an ocean away. 

She talked to Marilla about their conversation the following morning, and Marilla had tried to convince Anne to not think so low of herself. To accept that maybe Gilbert was trying to tell her something, that it was the possibility of a relationship with Anne that he had chosen. Marilla was normally so wise and steadfast, so Anne found her advice overwhelming and fraught with what it could imply. She quickly packed a bag and headed out to see Ka’kwet. A friend who lived a world away from the drama of what to do or think about Gilbert.

And now here she was in this library, trying to focus on Charlie Sloane. She was doing to Charlie what she feared Gilbert had been doing to her that night at the bonfire: pursuing a less desirable option simply because it was available. She was treating Charlie like a distraction, a way of getting over her one, true love. She vowed to be forthright with Charlie the next time she saw him, and decline his next invitation for coffee.

She slams her book shut and stares out the window of her reading nook, the glass fogging up under the heat of her breath. That’s one problem solved, she thinks. But it does nothing to lessen her affection for Gilbert.

Was it too late for them? Could love conquer all? Should she try one more time? Because she truly does love him. And she has always vowed to be true to herself. She loves how he stares at her with eyes that make her heart race. She loves that he always shows up at the political rallies she helps to organize, and jumps right in volunteering with whatever task she assigns him. She loves how smart he is, how he has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge matched only by her own, challenging her to be better. She even loves his splendid chin. She loves everything about him, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "After Apple Picking" is a real poem by Robert Frost. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44259/after-apple-picking
> 
> I thought nothing could make that porch scene/near kiss more romantic other than adding a sleeping Delphine in Gilbert's arms. What do you think?


	3. When the Earthquake Happened It Really Got Me Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Anne. Anne. Anne. Her name begins to hum through his veins like a drumbeat to a song."
> 
> "Gilbert. Gilbert. Gilbert. Despite the bitterness of adrenaline on her tongue, she can taste his name on her lips."

Gilbert is so lost in thought over his memories of Anne and what might have been that he doesn’t notice the earth below him beginning to tremble at first. In fact, it isn’t until he begins to hear cries of panic move through the coffee shop and into his ears that he notices the way his coffee mug clanks against the wooden table. 

He doesn’t have even a moment to question what is happening when he sees everyone else tumble to the ground and scramble under tables, chairs shoved aside in the chaos. He joins them instinctively, and finds just a bit of protection from the small table above him. He gathers himself into the tiniest ball he can, covers his head with his calloused hands. Just in time for the window he had but a moment before been staring right through shatter into daggers that slice through the air.

Everywhere there is broken glass. Everything is shaking. Everyone is screaming. 

Earthquake, he finally realizes. Not a bomb or an explosion of some kind. He holds his position under the table, foolishly clinging to the hope that if he can just keep his own body perfectly still, unlike the ground below him, it will all be over. 

But it lingers. He hears pops and cries and the crunch of the strain of the building around him. 

“Please hold, please hold,” he whispers to himself. He’s speaking it to the table above him, the beams of the building around him. Even to his own will to live.

And while everything and everyone falls and tumbles around him, it does hold. The table and the building and himself. As the shaking concludes, Gilbert’s survival instinct makes way for his innate need to help others. 

“Is everyone ok? Does anyone need help?” he says out loud, to no one in particular.

He looks around at the strangers scattered around the shop. There are cuts and scratches and pale faces and open mouths and terrified eyes, no one quite processing what has just happened. An earthquake? In Charlottetown? But everyone appears to be ok, despite the disaster of shattered windows and smashed ceramics and equipment around them. He pushes what remains of the door frame to the shop open and helps the scattered customers and employees out of the building, and into the open space of the street and the quad.

It becomes immediately clear that the devastation was not limited to the coffee shop. He knows the thought is cliche, but it looks like a bomb has gone off all around him. He can barely make out the street, in fact, with so much debris scattered along it. He looks across the quad and sees the library is smoking, flames flickering through the open holes that used to be windows.

Anne. Anne. Anne. Her name begins to hum through his veins like a drumbeat to a song. Where is Anne? Is she ok? He immediately takes off running toward her dorm.

\-----

When Anne first feels the sensation of the earthquake, she thinks it is her own imagination, like someone taking her by the shoulders and shaking her out of the memories of Gilbert and back to the Frost poem in front of her, the way Marilla sometimes interrupts a daydream at the dinner table. But just as quickly, she realizes: this is real. And not only real, but wrong, as the library begins to groan and ruin itself around her. 

The first thing she notices is all the books tumbling to the ground, then the shelves begin to tip over. She jumps up, almost in an instinctual attempt to catch it all, to save her refuge of words and pages and tales and stories. And thank goodness she does move away from the window, because it breaks and she’s just out of the reach of the shards of glass as they clatter around her.

An earthquake, she realizes. Her mind struggles to keep up with the pace of the devastation unfolding around her. She drops to the ground and covers her ears with her hands, trying to block it all out.

As the shaky tremors finally start to still, Anne begins to hear shouting and then she smells the smoke. The glint of flames coming from the next room catch her eye. She might not know a thing about earthquakes, but fire safety she most certainly does. All the survival skills she has earned the hard way, from a childhood full of both adventure and pain, kick in. The safety manual at the orphanage, the fire at the Gillis home when she first came to Avonlea. She uses it all at this moment.

“Close the doors,” she thinks to herself. Cut off the oxygen supply. Save the library, or as much of it as you can. And get everyone out.

“Get out, everyone, get out. There’s a fire! Get into the open air outside. Away from the building.” She shouts it at no one in particular, but she sees panicked faces begin to move toward the exit. Luckily there aren’t many people in this part of the building so late at night. She runs from room to room, slamming every door she sees. Just as the smoke begins to overwhelm her lungs, she reaches the exit and flings her body out.

She rolls up into a ball on the cool grass, trying to fill her lungs back up. Gilbert. Gilbert. Gilbert. Despite the bitterness of adrenaline on her tongue, she can taste his name on her lips. Where is he? Is he ok? She has to find him. She starts running toward his apartment building.

\----

When Gilbert arrives at Anne’s dorm, or where Anne’s dorm once stood, he takes in the scene. If he thought the aftermath of the earthquake outside the coffee shop was one of devastation, this is something worse entirely. He feels nausea begin to rise up his throat. The rational side of his brain knows he’s feeling this for medical reasons, the adrenaline rush of this moment, but emotionally, he just feels sick with worry over Anne. Regardless, he swallows it down, just as a familiar voice shouts out, “Help! Does anyone know CPR?” 

He turns toward the voice, and sees Diana. Diana Berry, one of his oldest friends. And Anne’s roommate. Kindred spirits, they call themselves. Diana is hunched over someone, screaming for help. He almost vomits at the sight, but takes a closer look as he runs toward her. The person she’s hovering over has blonde hair spilling out around her on the sidewalk. Ruby Gillis. 

“Diana!” he yells as he gets closer.

“Oh Gilbert, thank god. Help me. She’s not breathing.”

Neither of them have time to process the stark contrast of the normally spunky girl’s lifeless body. Diana and Gilbert immediately get to work. He instructs Diana on how to compress Ruby’s chest as he breathes into her mouth. Please, please, please, the two friends both plead with her. Please, please, please, Ruby. 

It feels like eternity, but it is only a moment, really, before she gasps. As she takes in more air, her eyes flutter open. She stares up at the both of them. 

“Ruby, Ruby, are you ok?” Diana wraps Ruby up in a tight hug. Gilbert immediately pulls Diana off of her. 

“Air, Diana, she needs air. Give her some space.”

“I’m… I’m ok,” Ruby croaks out, her voice so unnaturally low compared to her normal high-pitched trill. She props herself up on her elbows and Gilbert is comforted by this show of strength.

“Ruby!” Diana and Gilbert both turn toward yet another familiar voice clumsily running toward them. 

“Moody! Over here! She’s ok!” Diana yells.

“Ruby, oh my god, I saw your building, and I just…” Moody collapses beside Ruby.

“You guys, she needs medical attention. Quickly.” Gilbert says. “Diana, how did this happen? Did she hit her head?”

“Yes, I think so, on one of the beams that collapsed. Moody, stay with her, I’ll go flag down an ambulance,” Diana says, as she stands up. But before she can run off for help, Gilbert grabs her arm.

“Diana, where’s Anne? Was she with you? Have you seen her?”

“No, no, she wasn’t here tonight. So I’m sure she’s fine. Right? She went to the library.” 

“The library!” Panic once again washes over Gilbert. “I was just there, it was on fire!”

The two of them look at each other, at a loss of what to say. 

“Diana, you help Ruby, get her to a hospital if you can. Or a doctor or nurse, at the least. She needs to be evaluated. We don’t know how long she was unconscious. I’ll… I’ll find Anne.”

“You have to, Gilbert. You have to find her.”

Gilbert tries to ignore the chill that runs down his spine. “I will. I will.”

As he runs, he pulls out his phone. 7 texts from Bash and Mary, all frantically asking if he’s ok.

To Bash: I’m ok. Trying to find Anne. Tell M&M I’m looking for her. Tell Barrys Diana is ok. 

Bash texts back immediately: Find her, Gilbert. And don’t be a moke when you do.

All Gilbert can think is that he would love nothing more than the chance to be a lovesick moke in front of Anne. He has never regretted every opportunity he’s had in the past more than he does right now.

\----

Anne’s lungs feel as though they might burst by the time she sprints up the steep hill to Gilbert’s apartment building. She was out of breath before she began, of course, having inhaled so much smoke in the library. 

So when she runs straight into Charlie Sloane, she’s gasping too hard to speak. 

“Anne! Are you ok? Thank you for coming to look for me.” He awkwardly places a hand on her shoulder.

“What?” She pauses, breathing deeply. Then she remembers Charlie lives in a rental house with the Pauls, directly across the street from Gilbert’s apartment building. “Where’s Gilbert?” She bends over, places her hands on her knees, still trying to get her breathing back to normal. Or as normal as possible in the midst of a natural disaster.

“You’re here looking for Gilbert? Why? Why Gilbert?”

The fact that Charlie is irritated with her for looking for a lifelong friend is the final straw and Anne’s fiery temper consumes her.

“Charlie Sloane! You are insufferable, cold-hearted, and emotionless. It’s not as if you’re out scouring campus for me right now! WHERE IS GILBERT?”

“Anne!” A far more supportive and familiar voice fills her ears. 

“Cole!” Anne stands up, spins on her heels, and runs toward him, forgetting all about Charlie. And he certainly doesn’t chase after her.

“Cole, are you ok? Your apartment is ok?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. A few broken dishes, that’s all. I was just going to check on Aunt Josephine and Rollins, and down to campus to find Gilbert. I actually don’t even know what to do!”

“Find Gilbert? What do you mean? He wasn’t home with you?” Anne had set Gilbert and Cole up as roommates their freshman year, knowing they could be kindred spirits with their sensitive, caring tendencies. Selfishly, Anne had been too scared for Cole to allow him to just take his chances with any randomly assigned roommate. Because you could never be sure how accepting someone might be. And while they have little in common in terms of hobbies or academic interests, Anne had been correct. Gilbert and Cole were well suited to live together and they had done so throughout college.

“No, he went to study. I’m not even sure where.”

“Oh, no, Cole. I have to find him. I have to tell him. Think, please? Please?”

“Right. Ok, ok, um... he likes the coffee shop, you know the one across the quad from the library? He studies there a lot. Maybe there?”

Anne thought about the scene of destruction she had just left behind at the quad and a chill ran over her. Cole wraps her tightly in a hug and they decide that Cole will go check on Aunt Jo and she will try to find Gilbert. 

Before they part, Cole whispers in her ear, “You know Gilbert’s a survivor, right? It’s going to be ok.”

This message of hope fortifies her enough to run back down the hill toward the center of campus and that awful scene at the quad. Anne takes a moment to turn on her phone and text Marilla, who she knows must be worried sick if word of the earthquake has made it to Avonlea. 

“I’m ok, how is GG?”  
Marilla immediately texts back.   
“Green Gables still standing, sick with worry about about you.”  
Anne texts back, “Tell LCrx I’m looking for Gilbert. Cole is fine. Will try to find D too.”  
Marilla doesn’t text back, distracted as she is by a pounding knock on the door of Green Gables. 

\-----

When Gilbert arrives back at the library, he’s somewhat relieved to see that the fire seems to be out. And while it is still a terrible scene unfolding outside, medical staff have put in place some sense of order. He spots a friend from one of his biology classes tending to someone and wonders if he might have more info.

“Freddie?”

“Hey, Gilbert… you ok? Your forehead?”

Gilbert realizes for the first time that he has a cut on his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Isn’t this crazy? Do you need help?” He sees that Freddie is bandaging a cut.

“No, paramedics have been able to triage the most serious injuries. I was in the library. I thought it was going to burn to the ground, they think a fire started by some wires sparking during the earthquake.”

“But it’s out now? Did everyone get out?”

“I think so. Someone said somebody ran through the building closing all the doors, and that might have bought everyone enough time to get out. I’ve seen a few suffering from smoke inhalation but they’ve all been taken care of.”

Gilbert swallows bile down yet again. Anne. That had to have been Anne closing the doors.

“Did Anne… did that person make it out?”

“I have no idea, but I do think the building got cleared.”

“Ok, thanks…” and Gilbert ran off.

The sound of “Anne” continues to thump through his chest, and now he hears himself shouting her name again, almost as an out-of-body reflex. “Anne? Anne? Anne?” If only his voice could will her to appear out of thin air. And then, as he pauses to catch his breath, he hears his own name. 

“Gilbert? Gilbert Blythe?” 

His head whips around, and there in the distance, across the quad, standing in front of the coffee shop, is a shock of red hair blowing around as she whips her head around in search for the name crying out from her lips. His name. 

\----

She arrives back to the quad and is comforted only slightly to see that the flames from the library have dissipated. While the scene around her is still chaotic, fellow students weeping in each other’s arms or being tended to by friends and medical staff, it seems far less dramatic than when she had fled awhile ago for Gilbert’s apartment building.

“Gilbert! Gilbert!” She knows it may be hopeless. He could be anywhere. Even if he had been at the coffee shop, and if he had made it out alive (she shudders a bit at the thought of the alternative), why would he stick around and not just head home? But she also knows Gilbert, knows his heart, his desire to help others. He might. He just might.

“Gilbert? Gilbert Blythe?” she screams again, turning her head every which way, hoping to catch a glance of his brown curls somewhere in the madness.

“Anne! Anne!” She hears her name being called. By a voice that has not only been the soundtrack to her formative years, but also the constant background of her dreams at night. Was she dreaming? She had to be sure, but she can’t see him. Knowing she’ll never spot him over the heads of all the taller people around her, she simply starts running toward the sound.

Because if he’s here, if he’s calling her name, then he must be alive. She pinches her wrist and hopes she’s not imagining it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if I haven't captured the experience of being in an earthquake well... I've never experienced a significant one. But... earthquakes can in fact happen on Prince Edward Island, and a magnitude 6.3 hit as recently as August 2020.

**Author's Note:**

> Picture me, standing on the beautiful coast of Prince Edward Island, staring off at the horizon over the sea, wondering where Anne is studying tonight… and what (who?) she’s thinking about...


End file.
